


Mistakes Made In the Dark

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mistaken Identity, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Maeglin, after his release from the Halls, seeks out Celebrimbor for aid.At least, he thinks he's asking Celebrimbor for aid.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137





	Mistakes Made In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 100 words of mistaken identity prompt on FFA.

Maeglin crept into a forge on the edges of Tirion, spying the fire still burning through the window.

He hoped Celebrimbor would be willing to help him, even though they had only met in the Halls. Celebrimbor has promised his help that day he found Maeglin hiding in the dark of the Halls. Maeglin was still not sure why, he was the traitor of Gondolin and not close kin to Celebrimbor. Indeed, Celebrimbor had famously renounced his own father for centuries following Nargothrond, only reuniting in the Halls. It had confused Maeglin at the time.

But now that Námo had finally forced Maeglin from his Halls, Maeglin had no choice but to beg for that aid. He could not face Turgon again, nor his mother. He had hidden himself from Fingolfin and Fingon in the Halls, and Argon had already been reborn.

He could only hope that Celebrimbor would help him. He just needed directions to a forge outside of the city, one where nobody would know him and he could perhaps make enough to survive on. That was not too much to ask about, he hoped. 

He looked around the corner. He had never seen Celebrimbor alive before, but the elf before him matched the one he had seen in the tapestries.

"Tyelpe? It is Maeglin. I am sorry to bother you, and I shall leave as quickly as possible, but if you have a moment, I need to ask you about forges outside of the city." He forced himself to look up, though he could not meet Celebrimbor's eyes.

The other elf raised a brow. "Why outside of the city?"

"I cannot face Turgon, or my mother, and if any of the rest of my family has been told of me, they will loathe me - I gave in to Morgoth, when my grandfather challenged him before his own gates. Please, I wish to leave the city before I bring further grief to them." Maeglin reminded himself as he spoke of all the reasons that was the correct choice - he would miss Celebrimbor, and the part of him that still longed for Turgon's forgiveness would be sad to forsake the possibility, but staying was irresponsible.

He saw the other elf frown and place the hammer down. Then he stepped closer. 

"Your grandfather had the benefit of an upbringing in Valinor where we regularly interacted with the Valar. Morgoth is not so different from them in might, only in how he expresses such. Once you have worked with one Vala in a forge, it is not so hard to slam a door in another's face, or so I used to tell my sons," the elf said.

Maeglin gaped. This was not Celebrimbor.

Of course he would only remember now what his mother had said about Celebrimbor's father and grandfather, when he had just confessed his fears to Fëanor.

At that thought, he took another quick breath, and another, until he knew he was losing more air in his gasps than he was taking in. He had done this as a boy too, and in Sauron's dungeons, especially after Sauron had begun to enjoy it.

The thought of that made his breathing quicken even more. He could hear the other elf asking him to calm, even as he collapsed towards the floor.

He awoke to find his head in Fëanor's lap, while Fëanor softly spoke.

"Tyelpe did the same when he was first reborn," Fëanor said when he noticed Maeglin looking at him. "He had not done so in his first life, and it terrified me the first time he broke down."

Maeglin closed his eyes, willing that image away. "I have always done so. Sauron delighted in it."

"Gorthaur would." Fëanor's hands shook at that, a minute tremble that would have been unnoticeable if they were not resting on Maeglin's head shoulders. "He has delighted in cruelty against many."

Sauron had - Finrod, Maedhros, Celebrimbor, among others. Maeglin felt even more of a fool now, to have mentioned such. "He did not do that much to me."

"Perhaps not, but Tyelpe has said that Gorthaur did enough to you, and in this I will bow to my grandson's knowledge."

"You will not allow me to sneak away, will you?" Maeglin asked. He knew the answer, and he also knew that he could not hope to trick Fëanor so that he could escape. And even if he did, he could hardly count on secrecy about his release to continue. 

"If you wish to leave the city, I will send you to Mahtan with a letter bidding him to allow you entrance to his forges, and I will inform your Uncle that you wish to be left alone for some time," Fëanor said. "I will not hide you when your Uncle has been in a panic since Námo's letter arrived and you did not arrive following it."

"What letter?" Maeglin did not recall any letter, though he had not paid much attention to what Námo said, instead trying to figure out a way to live that did not involve seeing other elves.

"There are letters sent when each elf is reembodied, allowing the family time to prepare. Given that your mother is on a year's long camping trip in the north with Tyelko, your letter was sent to Turukáno."

Maeglin only refrained from thudding his head back due to it still being in Fëanor's lap. "How angry is he?"

Fëanor's hands stilled. "At you? He is not. Will you see him?"

Maeglin thought for a moment of the possibilities. He could not hope for forgiveness, not even knowing this, but he owed Turgon a chance to speak. "Yes."

"Good," Fëanor said. He must have seen the fear on Maeglin's face. "I shall go with you, if you wish. Even if he was angry at you, I assure you he will always be more angry at one of my sons."

Maeglin knew he should not consider this a comfort, but he did. "Thank you."

Before Fëanor could respond, the door to the forge creaked open again.

"Grandfather, we are all waiting for you to eat. Uncles Ambarussa are threatening to chew on the table if -" Celebrimbor turned the corner and stopped. "Maeglin?"

"Hello," Maeglin muttered.

Fëanor stood, picking up Maeglin, who considered protesting. Then he looked at Fëanor's raised eyebrow and decided it would not be effective. "Run and tell your Grandmother that we have a guest, Tyelpe. He and I will be behind you."

As they stepped through the door to the house a few minutes later, Maeglin heard one of the other elves laughingly shout something about Makalaurë getting his habit of kidnapping Nolofinwë's grandchildren from somewhere. 

Maeglin blinked.

Well, that was something to consider later. 


End file.
